


Unfurl

by OmniscientProstitute



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allusions to abuse, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Keith needs a hug, Korean-American Keith, M/M, Minor Allura/Shiro (Voltron), Mutual Pining, mild death, non-binary Pidge, sorta angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-06 03:52:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8733781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmniscientProstitute/pseuds/OmniscientProstitute
Summary: After an unfortunate incident Keith is moved across the country to live with his grandma. He must cope with drastic changes including a blue eyed boy with a large personality.
Junior year was supposed to be the same as it had always been for Lance. He wanted to flirt with girls and do well in classes. Instead he's left to deal with the confusion that surrounds a certain new kid like a perfume cloud.





	1. Keith

**Author's Note:**

> My goal is to update this piece weekly; however, if a chapter is not turning out how I want it to, I will hold off on publishing it until it is satisfactory.

“Have a good day.” Keith glanced down at the text message one last time before tucking his phone into the front pocket of his ripped black skinny jeans. It was the last text exchange he had with his mom and even though she was buried back in New York, every time he read the message he felt her with him. Spiritually they were as far away as they had ever been: Physically only two-thousand nine-hundred and six miles separated them: Mentally Keith felt his mother standing right beside him every time he took a step. Keith yanked his keys out of the transmission and flung the door of his grandma’s black Honda Civic open. He slid out of the driver’s seat, snatched his back pack from the passenger side, and adjusted the red leather jacket on his shoulders like battle armor before approaching the school. The sand colored building was an architectural anomaly on the street crammed with glass office buildings. The school was built by a famous architect back in the eighties and was never remodeled. Walking into the school, Keith was met by a curly blonde haired twenty-some year old in the front office, who had the same overly sympathetic smile as the straight red haired sixty-some year old back in New York. “You must be Keith. We're very excited to have you here.” Keith nodded, accepting the Manila envelope containing his schedule and school map with an internal cringe. He shivered as her baby-blue fake nails dragged across the back of his hand. Retreating from the front office, Keith slipped his earbuds into his ears and loosened his shoulders as raging guitars brutalized his ears. He circled the edge of the cafeteria, noting how the students had already segmented into cliques despite it only being seven-thirty in the morning. Keith bypassed a hall containing a group of five tall guys wearing basketball jerseys and slowly climbed the obnoxiously painted stairs up to the third floor. The level was empty; a single light illuminating the entrance to a corridor and an atrium with a lunch table shoved in the corner. Keith honed in on the lunch table, using it as a perch until the school day officially started. By seven forty-five when the warning bell rang, the school was bustling. A handful of students had passed his perch, none of them so much as glanced at him.

Keith made his way to his first class slowly, searching for the glossy green plate that read three-oh-five. The class was empty, the word Algebra written in big blue letters on the front board, and maybe fifteen desks in three rows of five. Keith plopped his backpack on the floor next to the desk in the back corner and prepared himself for the first bout of judgment. Keith had seen plenty of kids work through the new kid system, those first moments were important. A group of five girls were the first to walk into class. They were stereotypical popular girls--yoga pants, their boyfriends’ football jerseys, and dyed blonde hair. The shortest one scanned the room for a seat. Her eyes landed on Keith, flicking up and down his body. In a perfectly choreographed move the girls turned their back on him and sat in the front corner opposite Keith. Every few seconds one would glance back at him with a smirk or a quick once over. As long as their boyfriends didn’t consider him a threat, Keith was content. The class filled up gradually, the last boy walking in with the teacher right behind him. 

The loud self-proclaimed football star in the front of the class shot Keith a few unimpressed looks, but nothing was ever said or done. At the end of class he even let Keith walk out of the room without hassle. He was never bullied in New York, sure people judged him for piercing his ears, listening to punk music, and occasionally riding his motorcycle too fast, but they never touched him. Keith was aware that everything could change in an instant. He had watched a girl in fifth grade go from the most popular girl in her last school to the verbal punching bag of theirs. He knew he could hold himself in a fight. Nobody could go to as many underground punk shows as he did without picking up a few strategies. Keith allowed himself a few moments to remember his last year spent in New York; he knocked a guy unconscious outside of a show for being racist.

The trek from the third floor to the first floor, where the science classes were located, allowed a small glimpse into the culture of the school. There appeared to be all the standard groups--preps, nerds, emos, goths, jocks, geeks--which were broken down into smaller groups--hockey jocks, football jocks, science nerds, math nerds, cyber-goths, Dungeons and Dragons masters. Keith figured the outward hate would be more apparent, but he had yet to experience anything beyond general rudeness; on his way to the second floor for his Economics class a broad shouldered guy bumped into him without apologizing.The class had more desks than any other in the school, and the seating chart sitting on the front table said every seat would be filled. Keith dropped into his seat, next to a large guy flipping through a comic book. About halfway through Mr. Anderson’s speech about classroom behavior Keith felt eyes on him. The temptation to turn and confront whoever was staring at him was countered by his fear of it being someone who would go after him; Keith was all about survival. During the short five minute break they were given, Keith carefully glanced to his side. His table mate, who had been staring at him, was engrossed in his phone, fingers flying across the screen frantically. Keith turned back towards the front of the classroom and debated whether he should say something to the guy or not.

The option was taken from him with the bell signaling the end of class and the beginning of lunch. The guy was suddenly shoving his hand in Keith’s face. “I'm Hunk.”

“Keith.” 

“Come on, you can sit with us at lunch.” Hunk began walking not allowing Keith to deny the request. There were three people sitting at a circular table towards the back of the lunchroom. The guys stood as Hunk approached, only to pause as Keith’s slighter form joined Hunk at the edge of the table. The first one was the shortest of the four friends, circular glasses sitting on a pale freckled nose, and orange hair cut short so gender was ambiguous. The second was taller, built athletically like a quarterback, and had a patch of white hair sprouting above his forehead. The last one had tan sun-kissed skin, a lean body, and dark blue eyes. He was attractive, and Keith flushed at his suddenly racing heart. “This is Keith.” Hunk stated dropping his backpack on the open spot next to the shortest one. “Keith meet Pidge, Shiro, and Lance.” Keith nodded, his eyes refusing to meet Lance’s; although, his were locked on Keith.

The group conversed as usual, catching up with each other even though they had seen each other only a week ago. They formed a circle when they talked, as if they were trying to form a physical barrier around their conversation. Keith was squished between Shiro and Pidge, and across from Lance. They shuffled forward a few feet every minute or so until they were forced to abandoned their circle in order to receive their food. When they returned to the table Keith was pushed into the seat next to Lance.

“So where are you from?” Pidge asked, the chicken nuggets on their tray too crispy for their plastic fork to stab so they were trying to sneak some of Hunk’s.

“New York.” Keith's chicken was less crispy, but he had forgotten to grab a fork.

“This must have been a big change then?” 

“I wasn't sure what to expect.” Keith confessed with a shrug. Out of the corner of his eye, Keith watched Lance’s long tan fingers wrap around his own fork. “It's different, but better.” Sure New York had his mom, the best pizza in the country, and tons of underground punk shows, but Keith slept better over here. He didn’t have to worry about his father. He had a chance to start over.

“That's hard to believe.” Hunk responded continuing the conversation. “New York has everything.”

“It’s too crowded.” Keith had lived in a house on the edge of the city; he had a yard, but it still felt closed in. There were too many small states too close together.

Keith’s last class was gym. He had basketball shorts and a plain black T-shirt shoved into his backpack just in case, but he was hoping he wouldn't need them. Group athletics had never interested him, he preferred karate and jujitsu, solo activities. “Where is the gym?” Keith asked softly, dragging Lance out of Shiro and Pidge’s conversation about school lunches.

“Do you have gym next?” Lance lowered his volume as well. Their eyes connected and Keith knew he would be throwing himself into fixing his bike later that night in order to escape them.

“Yeah.” The confirmation was whispered, all the confidence dropping out of Keith’s voice. 

“I have gym too, we can walk together.” Keith nodded, quickly dropping his head so Lance wouldn't see his panic. Lance couldn’t change in front of him. Keith stood up from the table with his tray. The walk across the lunchroom would hopefully reveal answers to him, or maybe an escape. There was a bathroom tucked around the corner of the cafeteria; he could just hide in there for the rest of the day. But, his backpack was back at the table. He could claim he was sick, claim the chicken was under cooked or something. Except he couldn't do that every day. 

The annoying drone of the end of lunch bell reverberated through Keith like a war cry. He stood up slowly, his shoulder gently brushing Lance’s. “We shouldn't have to change today.” Lance murmured as he shrugged his backpack onto his shoulders. Keith relaxed a little; although he still refused to make eye contact. They walked down a hall lined with windows to an old square gym. It was painted with the school colors, and had three curtains which dropped to segment the gym. There was a bald man with a beer-gut in a tracksuit handing people locks. “We normally try to get lockers in the back.” Lance handed Keith a lock and led him into the men's locker room. The all too familiar stench of hard work hit Keith like a train and he coughed slightly. They moved to the back corner where there were already locked lockers. “Now we have more space.” Keith nodded, snapping his lock onto the door next to Lance's. “Are you normally this quiet or is something wrong?”

“Maybe you’re just loud.” Keith responded, the twitch of his eye-brow signalling to Lance that Keith was joking. “I’m just trying to get to know my surroundings.”

“They’re very accepting.” Lance turned to Keith with a proud look in his eyes as he referenced the three students from lunch. “Last year Pidge came out as non-binary. Shiro lost his arm in an unfortunate car accident when he was younger. Hunk pours milk before cereal. You don’t need to worry about fitting in.” 

Keith wondered if Pidge, Shiro, or Hunk minded that Lance was sharing such personal information freely. “I won’t worry.” Keith looked earnestly into Lance’s eyes. He didn’t want Lance to feel like he needed to protect his friends from Keith. “They seem like good people.” Something flashed across Lance’s face. Something that made his lips twitched minutely and his eyes flit to the ceiling. He held his breath, releasing it slowly.

Keith wondered what he had said to upset Lance,“We should probably go back to the gym.” Keith noticed the sudden silence; they were alone in the locker room.

“Alright.” Keith turned to leave, filing away the sigh Lance released for further investigation later. The rest of the class was spent going through the syllabus. Lance sat close and mumbled little anecdotes under his breathe. Keith had to hide his chuckles behind a grin as Lance whispered about how a kid last year got a concussion because he was hit in the head with a Frisbee. Lance was confident; he knew who he was and how to work with it. Unapologetic. It added another layer of attraction, another reason behind the pinkening of Keith’s cheeks, another jump in his heartbeat. Keith wished that confidence was aimed at him instead of the two red haired girls sitting a few feet away who would never be anything but a tease to Lance. He turned his head away, the familiar need to suppress overloading his mind.

“Let me get your number; we have a group chat.” Lance’s loud voice was abruptly in Keith’s ear.

‘Oww, dude.”

“Give me your number.” Lance repeated in a whisper, prompting Keith to roll his eyes while he pulled his phone out. Lance added the contacts, efficiently creating a new group chat. “It can be a little annoying, but we have fun.” Keith’s phone immediately lit up with a message from Pidge, which was a picture of Hunk pretending to drink something out of a beaker. Keith raised his eyebrow as Hunk replied with a picture Pidge in fogged up goggles.

“We’ve been friends forever.” Lance laughed cheerily, sending a quick reply to the chat. “Hunk and I went to preschool together. We met Pidge when their second grade science experiment went up in flames making the sprinklers turn on. The three of us recruited Shiro for our middle school kickball team.” Keith nodded along, remembering back to his own early schooling. He hadn’t made many friends; although, there were a few people who made impacting appearances in Keith’s life. “Then Shiro met Allura, she’s the principal’s daughter, and out sleepovers became a little more controlled.”

“Group mom?”

“And group dad.” Lance added startling at the end of school bell. “I have to take Hunk home, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

\----------------------------------------

Keith parked in front of his new home and sat there for a moment listening to one of a million local commercials he would eventually memorize. The two story pale blue farm house had housed Keith for a few months, and it still felt weird for a key in his possession to unlock its doors. He vaguely remembered visits from his younger years; the moment he never lived down when he asked his mom why there was no snow at grandma’s when it blanketed home. They normally visited Grandma Kai during holiday break. The three of them--Keith, his mom, and Grandma Kai--would bake sugar cookies and watch Christmas movies even though Grandma Kai practiced Buddhism. Keith loved sitting in the back garden, eating fresh fruit and fudge while learning Korean. Those days had passed; Keith had yet to step foot in the back yard. “Welcome home, how was school?” Grandma Kai’s worn round face turned to Keith; although, she refused to decrease the speed of her vegetable chopping knife.

“Very good, halmoni. My classes will be challenging, and I made a few friends.”

“I am glad to hear that.” She gestured to a red ceramic bowl on the counter filled with dried fruits. “Tell me about them.” A smile slipped onto his lips as he stashed his backpack under the bar stool.

“I don’t know much about them since I only met them today, but there are four of them. Hunk is in my Economics class. He likes good food and fluffy things. Pidge is the smartest person in school. They are building a robot for fun. Shiro is a senior. He wants to join the Air Force.” Keith faltered as his mind focused on Lance.

“That’s only three Keith.”

“I know, Lance is hard to describe. He’s loud and borderline annoying, but it’s also endearing.” His grandma nodded once, accenting her movement with the final deadly slice of her knife. “I only met him today halmoni.”

“It’s good that you’re showing interest.” Keith heard the left out: in anything. After the incident Keith had lost the soul of giving a fuck. He forgot to brush his teeth, lived off a sleeve of saltine crackers and a bottle of water, and wore the same shirt and sweatpants for a week. Only after he moved in with his grandma, and she threatened to hose him down after he forgot to shower for three days, did he readopt the habit of good hygiene. He hadn’t shown interest in his grandpa’s old motorbike until two weeks before the start of school. “I’m asking that you don’t block them out at the first sign of trouble.”

“I won’t, but I don’t think Lance likes me.” Their interaction in the locker room continued to plague Keith. The deep breathing and looking up to the ceiling paralleled signals of anger. His father portrayed that exact same body-language before the incident.

“Why do you think that?” Grandma Kai turned her earthen eyes on Keith so they burrowed into his soul. Keith retold the story slowly, adding details he knew his grandma would ask about. During the summer, Keith would take night walks to clear his mind and help him process; the next morning over a cup of tea, he shared his experiences with his grandma. She asked questions about how the wind felt on his skin and what the cars’ engines sounded like when they drove past him. Keith tried to explain the look that flashed across Lance’s face, every twitch, every breath. He extrapolated about Lance’s action before and after the conversation, how he said the words he did.

“Be careful about assuming.” Grandma Kai stated, she used her knife to push the chopped up peppers into a saute pan. Her eyes moved rapidly as if she were reading a book Keith couldn’t see. “Do not under or overestimate him.” Keith focused on his grandma; her lips were pulled into a reassuring smile. “Do not act prematurely.”

“I’ll try not to, halmoni.”

“That is all I ask. Now go do your homework; food will be ready soon.”


	2. Lance

Lance stared into his cereal, watching his Cheerios soak up milk until they became too soggy to stay uniform. He had not slept well the night before, his phone blowing up for hours while he tried to convince Pidge to help him. He was attracted to Keith. He hadn't looked at a guy sexually, ever. Not when that senior came onto him freshman year. Not when the guy had grabbed his ass and whispered in his ear when he went to a party that one time. He flirted and joked with other guys because it was funny, and he was confident enough in his sexuality not to think about it too hard. He thought he knew what he liked: He apparently like Keith. Lance shoved a spoon full of pathetic into his mouth with a sigh. He could still feel the way his heartbeat picked up and his eyes seemed unable to leave Keith. He was maybe an inch or two shorter than Lance, had long black hair that looked like a post-80’s mullet, and practically purple eyes. The three black piercings in his ear had quickly drawn Lance’s attention, Keith’s pale fingers reached up to play with them when he became uncomfortable. It was unnerving, the sudden desire to claim that came over Lance. His large hands wrapped around or pressed against pale, pink skin. Hunk’s advice had been that gender didn’t matter as long as his feelings for Keith were genuine.. “Do you want us to do anything?” The text from Hunk made Lance pause in his ministrations of forgoing a spoon and just drinking his cereal.

“Nothing.” The idea of Keith being kept away from him set a possessive bomb off inside of Lance. It was just sexual attraction, carnal lust; it would go away with time.

Lance repeated that to himself as he was picked up by Shiro, who didn't say anything about the newest member of the group, and as he walked into the school. The group liked to meet in the second floor atrium, the focal point of everyone's morning classes. Pidge was sitting next to Keith with a devious smirk. The facial expression made Lance’s footsteps falter in fear, but under closer inspection it didn't appear as if they were talking about the feelings tearing through the Cuban friend. Keith rolled his eyes and shook his head in response to Pidge’s troublesome giggle. Lance slid into the seat beside Keith trying to read the excitement dancing in Pidge’s eyes.

“Do I need to bring anything?” Keith’s monotonous voice brought Lance’s eyebrow into a quirk.

“If you checked the group-chat, you’d know I’m having everyone over Friday.” They then turned back to Keith. “You’ll probably want a blanket and any specific snacks you want.” Pidge loved having people over at their house. Throughout intermediate and middle school Pidge’s parents were constantly pushing them to invite people to sleepovers. “We have three different kinds of pretzels, and Doritos. Anything else you’ll have to bring yourself.” Keith nodded, falling silent as Hunk joined the table with a loud “fuck”. He didn’t elaborate, just shot Lance a sympathetic look and pulled a chocolate milk out of his backpack. Tension set in like boredom on a snow day. Keith was staring down at his phone as the other four at the table shot looks too each other. Lance was ignoring them, focusing on the way Keith was trying to make himself smaller. He was about to ask Keith what was wrong when the bell rang. He was out of his seat and up the stairs before the bell had stopped reverberating through Lance’s ears. “I learned some very valuable information this morning while you guys were taking your sweet time getting to school.” Pidge slowly stood up from their spot. “I think Keith is gay. His phone background is a pride flag waving in the wind.” Hunk’s eyebrows shot up as his eyes focused on Lance. They had deduced a few things during the wee hours of the night. The first was that Lance didn’t mind having feelings for Keith. Feelings were feelings, and Lance’s mom taught him to believe that everyone should be in tune with and trust their feelings. The second was that Lance needed to figure out if his emotions were serious. If his feelings started to subside after a few sessions of pleasure, it wouldn’t make sense to move forward with a relationship.

“That doesn't mean he's gay.” Lance responded. “Besides I don't even know if this is serious.”

“The kid also just moved here.” Hunk added, a reassuring hand landing on Lance’s shoulder. “Give it a few weeks to get to know him first. There's no reason to rush.”

\-------------------------------------------

Lance had never wanted to kiss his obnoxious AP European History teacher more than he did that morning. Nothing could take a mind off of personal problems like packing three hours of note taking into one and a half. Lance took his front row seat with an excitement that surprised himself. Maybe the life of King James would shed some light on his own problems. One hour and twenty minutes later Lance’s hand was well on its way to developing carpal tunnel and he was no closer to answers. The only input he'd received was a text from Pidge that prompted him to go for it on Saturday and utilize the guest room at their house. 

Lance’s next class was math. On his way up to the third floor he passed Keith, who had headphones jammed in his ears and his eyes locked on the ground. “What's wrong?” Lance texted as soon as his ass hit his designated chair.

“I'm a little homesick.” Lance’s heart stuttered, imagining Keith pouring over memories and pictures of New York. “Pidge asked me about relationships this morning. It got me remembering. She’s back in New York.” Despite Lance’s expectations, jealousy did not spike through him.

“Who is she?”

“My mom. She would have adored you.” Lance wondered what Keith looked like at that moment. Were his feet tucked under his desk? Was he smiling or frowning? Did he still have his hood pulled over his head? 

Math and Chemistry passed in a blur of bullshit that often accompanied math and chemistry. Lance was excited that Keith opened up to him even if it was vague. The ‘would have’ sent a jolt of pain and concern through his heart. “Would have” implied that she was gone: walked out or died. At lunch the quiet boy flung his backpack onto the seat next to Lance and offered a small smile. Same as the day before, Keith remained mostly silent during lunch. He picked at his chicken sandwich with less intent as the rest. His phone was face down on the table as far away from his as his arms could reach. Keith looked sad; his almost violet eyes glassy despite the disinterested chuckles that left his lips every few minutes. In all honesty, Lance wasn’t talking much either, he was still thinking about the ‘would have’ attached to Keith’s mom. If she had left, there would be more anger. Longing and sorrow would still be prevalent, but it would be burned by anger and the sense of being wronged. Keith’s anger was not aimed at his mom; although, Lance couldn’t figure out where the emotions were aimed towards. He had highly inappropriate questions to ask--how recent and what had happened? Where was his dad? Did he live with his dad? Keith had never mentioned anything about moving with siblings. “Is there a record store near by?” The sudden mumbling in his ear startled Lance. He jerked, his hand knocking his tray.

“What?”

Keith cleared his throat, “Are there any record stores either around town or in the city?”

“Um, there’s probably some downtown, but I’ve never been in one.” Lance felt bad that he couldn’t help his friend when this was the first time he had asked for something, but he was more concerned. Where most people would have flipped over their phone sitting a few inches away and goggled ‘record stores near by’, Keith nodded his head in acceptance then continued eating.

Gym was going to be a whole different beast. With friends around, Lance was forced to split his focus, unable to neglect his friends and stare at Keith for the entire forty-five minute duration of their lunch. In gym it was just the two of them and maybe twelve classmates he honestly couldn't care less about. Sure Lance would have flirted with the girls in the past, but with Keith’s pretty eyes still swimming with memories; Lance couldn’t bring himself to flirt even if the purpose was to make Keith jealous. He needed a plan of action, a mode for him to focus on Keith less. He didn’t have much time, in less than ten minutes he and Keith would be changing for gym. Lance didn’t know if he could keep his attraction at bay despite Keith’s failed attempt at suppressing his inner-turmoil. Lance was pathetic, he was aware, but it was a character flaw he was going to need to work on later. He could claim he had to pee, and stay in the stall until Keith had left the locker room. He could change in the stall, use an unfortunate skin condition as an excuse. Lance couldn’t abandon Keith during gym though. He would have to work the system in order to keep Keith and himself on the same team. “Do you think we’ll have to change for gym?”

“Yeah probably.” Keith’s face had lost its haunting look, instead he looked panicked as if he had forgotten something important. “Coach normally only gives us the first day off. We’ll most likely play dodge-ball for the first few weeks.” A mild look of terror overcame his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Keith then immediately tuned into Shiro and Hunk’s conversation, sending Lance a clear sign that Keith didn’t want to be asked about it.

Keith maintained the embarrassed flush on his face until they were tucked in the corner of the locker room. He stood in front of his open locker, staring at the clothes in his hand. “My boxers are embarrassing.”

“What?” Lance asked, leaning toward Keith. 

“I forgot we had to change for gym. My boxers have ghosts on them.” Keith ducked his head so his long hair fell in front of his face.

“I won't judge you.” Lance assured. He didn't understand what was so bad about having ghost boxers, but he was sympathetic. Keeping his mouth in a straight line and his eyes focused on his own actions, Lance pulled his blue baseball style shirt over his head and began to change. Keith didn't move until Lance had replaced it with an old stained sleep shirt. Out of the corner of his eye, Lance watched Keith remove his own shirt. Quickly and unceremoniously the smooth pale skin of his torso was exposed. Lance made sure to continue moving so as not to alert Keith to the fact he was being watched. Keith put on a dark purple shirt that had white writing faded beyond recognition. Lance was pulling on his loose black athletic shorts when Keith dropped his pants. What Keith referred to as boxers were actually tight black briefs, and they were decorated with ghosts: little cartoon ghosts. Lance didn't focus on the underwear for too long; his gaze flickering to the shoes he was tying on his feet. Keith had an ass. Two pert round globes that we're going to make the soft fabric of his shorts fall over them beautifully. He could handle it; the yoga pants trend had trained him for this moment. He just needed to maintain neutral eye contact. “The ghosts weren't that bad.” Lance leaned into Keith and teased him as they exited the locker room.

“Shut up,” Keith swiped at Lance, “or I’ll aim at you instead of the other team.”

Dodge-ball distracted Lance tremendously from his sexual confusion/frustration, because Keith was just as competitive as he was. They started a mini-game, each earning a point for hitting the other with a ball. Now they had to keep track of not only the other team, but their friend. Keith was sneaky. He hid behind people and within groups, shooting straight at Lance and firing from feet away. He was adorable, lips either pursed with focus before a throw or tipped up in a proud smirk. Lance was lanky, not so much clumsy but long. He preferred spontaneity; his style switching from gathering three to five balls at a time and shotgunning them at Keith, hoping one will hit its mark, and charging Keith, relying on rolls and crazy spin moves to keep him from being hit by a ball aimed at him. Lance pranced around with a thrilled grin on his lips or an occasional maniacal laugh. It was ultimately the best gym class Lance had ever been in. He followed Keith into the locker room feeling like a nine year old chasing their crush around the playground. “Ya’ think you’re gonna’ lose again tomorrow?”

“I didn’t think I lost today.” Keith snapped back just to bait Lance.

“I hit you more times than you hit me.”

“Wow, not only does your aim fail you, but your memory too.” Keith threw his dirty clothes into his locker then snapped the combination lock closed. Lance puffed out his chest and tipped his nose in the air, pretending he was above responding to that comment.

“Rematch tomorrow. Person with the most wins at the end of the unit wins overall.”

“Deal.” Keith flung his backpack over his shoulder with exaggerated attitude.

\------------------------------------------------

Lance flung himself onto his blue themed bed. He had a handful of math problems to do and a history worksheet to complain his way through, but Lance wanted nothing more than to sink into his bed and loose all responsibility for homework as well as rampantly confused libidos. His mom would be home with his siblings in a little under an hour, if he was going to get work done a majority of that would have to happen before then. He loved his siblings, three sisters and one brother, but they were all at least five years younger than him, and predominantly unhelpful. Lance’s phone buzzed. “Do your homework. Don’t think about it.” Shiro always knew what to say.

“Enjoy date night.” Lance responded, rolling onto his back then sitting up. He plugged his phone into the charger, his headphones into the jack, and cranked Britany Spears while he delved into his homework. The mindless multiplying and adding of equations didn't last as long as Lance had hoped, and he cringed as he pulled his AP European History textbook out of his backpack. He read every single word in the chapter and answered every question as thoroughly as possible. When he was mobbed by two three foot tall bundles of excitement, Lance halted his studying for a few minutes to ask his youngest siblings how their days had gone before kicking them out of his room. By the time his homework was finished, it was six forty-five. Lance was hungry and mentally exhausted. A light tap on his door startled him out of his stupor of staring at the wall. “Are you okay?”

"Yeah, I'm fine."

“Alright, well supper is ready.”

It was a tradition in the McClain household for meals to be a time of reflection. Family breakfast consisted of sharing dreams from the night before. During supper they took turns retelling their day, starting with Lance’s father and ending with whichever twin won the game of Rock-Paper-Scissors. Lance quickly figured out how to edit his stories so certain information didn’t unintentionally enter his parents’ knowledge. He managed to hide a few serious crushes in his sixteen years--Amanda, Katie, Samantha, Karolyn, and now Keith. The whole situation pissed him off; Lance picked up his fork and stabbed his green beans as a physical demonstration of that anger. If Keith was a girl, like the rest of his crushes, there would be no conflict. He would have accepted the feelings and shown interest. He didn’t see himself as homophobic. He had never had a problem with Pidge, or anyone else from the LGBTQ+ community. He wasn’t even repulsed by the idea of dating Keith. The denial and confusion came from the fact that he thought he knew himself. He was sixteen; he admitted openly that he didn’t know a lot, but he had been confident in his knowledge of his own sexuality.

“Lance!” His father’s stern voice startled him.

“Are you okay cariño?”

“Yeah, uhh, I forgot to ask if I could go to Pidge’s on Friday.”

“Of course! Is there anything you want to share from today?”

“Sure, Keith and I started our own game of dodge-ball in gym.”

After helping his mother clean and put away the dishes, Lance retired to his room where he flung himself on his bed and groaned. The sudden vibration in Lance’s pocket startled him. “Stop thinking.”

“Are you in my room?”

“No, but I’ve known you for my entire life. Stop thinking about it.” Lance rolled his eyes at Hunk’s older brother tone. “Also Shiro texted me.

“I have nothing to distract me.” 

“Watch porn.”

“I don’t think that’s really going to help.” Lance replied. He had never been a porn guy, preferring his imagination over terrible sex. 

“Fine. Think about Pidge’s idea to play spin the bottle on Friday.”

“I thought we agreed it’s weird to kiss each other?”

“They want to play one rigged round.” Lance stared at his phone trying to come up with some kind of response when the little dots popped up signaling Hunk was typing again. “I’m just warning you that they may choose to get involved.” 

“Thanks for the heads up.” Lance hoped his response conveyed the right amount of self-hate and kill-me-now. 

“See you at school tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cariño is a term of endearment for a son, or young male child. Similar to calling someone darling.


	3. Keith

By Friday morning Keith was thoroughly curious about the outcome of that evening's get together They were on their final game of dodge-ball, because Coach wanted to fit in a Cricket unit. The dodge-ball mini-game had turned into nothing but a way fr Keith and Lance to flirt with each other without having to admit it was flirting. Keith had changed his strategy in the middle of the week, moving to the defensive. He made Lance chase him, long legs moving more fluidly than Keith had expected. They circled each other and by the end it wasn't as subtle as they thought, but it made up the sexual tension beforehand a little more bearable. 

The ghost underwear scene had inadvertently started something. Keith expected Lance to look, to see if the ghosts marching across Keith’s ass were actually worth teasing Keith over. He hadn't expected the phantom feeling of eyes to last longer than maybe a second. It became a game, another form of dancing around their feelings. After three days Keith knew what Lance was concealing under his clothes: thighs that were muscular from family soccer matches, an abdomen showing the beginning of a six-pack, and plenty of soft looking tan skin. He was toned in a lean muscle kind of way. “Not sleep well.” Pidge’s voice startled Keith out of his trance staring at the mottled surface of the table the group sat at in the morning. 

“Hmm?” Keith hummed forcing himself to wake up. He had grown suspicious of Pidge in the four days he’d known them; they seemed like they had plans and knew more than he should.

“Sleep?”

“A little.”

“What were you doing?” The question had an innocent tone, but Keith was weary. 

“Not sleeping.” Pidge responded with an unimpressed look. “You know how for the Econ project we have to write a personal statement describing who we are in the economy. I had no clue what to write.”

“That project is a bitch.” Pidge recollected, their smirk switching from conniving to remembering. 

“I figured I’d get a few brownie points for adding fancy words about living in New York.”

“Won't hurt.” The arrival of Shiro and Allura successfully distracted Pidge. Keith met Allura on Wednesday, she had been visiting colleges, and decided that he liked her fifteen minutes into their conversation. She was beautiful and smart, a future bio-chemical engineer. She even took a few shots at Shiro. Keith enjoyed watching the couple. They interacted like friends more than lovers. It would probably be hard to tell they were dating if they didn’t hold hands and kiss each other in greeting. Lance said they were more touchy in private, that the two would practically sit in the same chair whenever the group hung out. That made sense to Keith, they had started as friends before becoming romantically involved. “Remember everyone, my house at four. “ Pidge announced as Hunk and Lance appeared at the table.

\-----------------------------------------

The day was moving too quickly. Math passed in a blur of gibberish equations. His second class, Chemistry, consisted of a lab, which Keith and his partner finished fifteen minutes before everyone else. “When is the food portion of the Econ Project due?” Hunk’s message caused Keith to flinch and knock his pencil off his desk.

“Tuesday.”

“You wanna’ go shopping with me Monday?”

“Sure.” Keith figured a little one-on-one time with Hunk wouldn't kill him. He might be able to weasel out some information about Lance. Keith mainly wanted to know if Lance’s flirtations were as heartfelt as Keith’s. Pidge had been, not so subtly trying to figure out his sexuality since Tuesday. It was concerning and made Keith cautious.

Pidge was waiting for him with Hunk in the Economics classroom. Perched atop Keith’s desk, they resembled a vulture waiting for their prey to finally die from exhaustion, in silence. ¨I vote we go to Jimmyś because my mom has a drawer full of coupons for that place.¨

¨I don’t care.¨ Keith shrugged his backpack onto the floor next to his desk. “I was just going to go to Walmart.”

Hunk shook his head. “The only thing Walmart is good for is getting kicked out of.” Keith nodded along. He had been in very few Walmart’s throughout his life. His mother had preferred boutique stores or organic marts. Occasionally she would venture into Costco, but only to stack up on snacks for parties or other family events. “We used to go on Saturdays or days we didn’t have school just to see if we could get kicked out.”

“One time we were “asked to leave” because Shiro and Allura wouldn’t stop making out in the computer section.” Pidge extrapolated.

“Why the computer section?”

“I needed a new laptop.” Keith shook his head, imagining Pidge dragging their two friends around Walmart as they continuously made eyes at each other.

“I think I would have left them there.” Hunk laughed at Keith’s comment strolling back to his desk.

“You won't be so against PDA when you get with Lance!” Pidge yelled as they ran out of the room. Keith scowled, his fingers hitting the screen of his phone a little to aggressively when his phone vibrated moments later. “Come on! We all know you and Lance are into each other.”

“Isn't Lance straight.”

“Yeah, Lance is not straight.”

“I'm serious.”

“I am too! Lance wants nothing more than to get inside those ghost themed boxers of yours. Well I mean he wants a serious relationship more than sex, but you know what I mean.” Pidge’s series of rapid fire texts made Keith’s heart race with panic.

“Not with me.”

“Yes with you!” Keith tucked his phone away; class was starting and he needed to focus. He felt his phone vibrate a few times, but he promised himself that he would ignore it until the break. 

Forty-five minutes later the itch to peak at his phone was satisfied. “Look. Lance tells Hunk everything, and Hunk tells me the important stuff. You made Lance question his sexuality, that is a very high compliment.”

“Just because he's questioning it doesn't mean he's changing it.” Keith began to feel cornered, causing anger to build up.

“Your blindness isn't cute.”

“I'm not blind. I'm a realist.” 

“But you like him.” The sudden change in direction threw Keith, and his phone almost slipped from his hand.

“Doesn’t matter.” Keith knew his response was frantic.

“Blind as a bat.” The smug tone was obvious in the text. 

“Fine.” Keith took a deep breath before sending his next text. “What happens if I say that I do like Lance?”

“We work with it.”

\---------------------------------------------

A fine layer of tension sat over the lunch table as Keith and Pidge approached. They both looked fed-up and they sat as far away from each other as possible. Pidge loved to meddle, especially when two people could be romantically interested, Keith knew that. He hadn’t expected such a direct approach. Despite Keith’s initial panic, everything had been relatively controlled until Pidge appeared to walk with Keith and Hunk to lunch. They slid a folded piece of paper that had “Game Plan” written in thick black letters along the top to Keith. It was for that night. Keith thought it was too soon. It had only been five days, and while Lance was everything Keith wanted. It was too soon. Pidge of course loudly expressed their feelings about waiting. “Why wait when you could be happy?” Pidge was a go-getter, so Spin the Bottle and Seven Minutes In Heaven worked for them; that strategy would not work for Keith. He felt bad that their disagreement was affecting their friends. It wasn't a fight Keith felt was worth having, but he wasn't going to back down. It was his possible relationship anyway.

“Is everything okay?” Lance asked once they had exited the cafeteria and headed toward the gym.

“Pidge and I got into an argument. I don't think it's anything serious.”

“Are you still coming over tonight?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Keith nudged his shoulder against Lance’s. “Everything will be sorted out before tonight.”

\------------------------------------------

The official definition of “sorted out” was a text message Keith received, ten minutes after he was supposed to have left his house, from Pidge. Keith sat cross legged on his bed, bag not packed, late, and nervous, as he read the text. “I promise I won’t pull anything. Come over.” 

“I’ll be on my way soon.” Keith responded, sliding off his bed. He dumped all of his books out of his backpack and stuffed his pillow, a blanket, toiletries, and his phone charger into the largest pocket. Keith plucked the over-sized bag of Twizzlers off the counter with more dread than he meant to express and said goodbye to his grandma. He was sure Hunk had made Pidge apologize.

Pidge’s house was five minutes away from Keith’s, ten because Keith took a wrong turn onto a one way street and couldn’t get back on track. It was two stories, a forest green color, and surrounded by a mote of rock. Keith parked across the street, behind Lance’s car, and approached the red metal front door. A kind faced woman, wearing sweatpants answered the door seconds after it stopped ringing. The open door released a tsunami of pizza grease and cinnamon, Keith almost missed the instructions to the basement as he tried to take in the entire home at once. He slipped his shoes off, leaving them on the rug, and carefully made his way to the basement. The group could be heard from the top of the stairs yelling directions at what Keith hypothesized was one of many Mario Kart matches that would be played. He went unnoticed until his phone chimed with a text from Pidge. Shiro’s head snapped towards Keith, a grin conquering his face. “Glad you could finally make it.”

“Took a few wrong turns.” Keith made his way over to the couch accepting Hunk’s fist-bump. 

“That one way street is a nightmare.” Shiro’s agreement was rushed as he whooped in encouragement. Allura had passed Lance and pulled into first place. The only open space on the couch was next to Lance, and required Keith to walk in front of the television so he chose to sprawl across the floor instead. 

“What are the stakes?” Keith asked watching Pidge, Lance, and Hunk fight for second through fourth place.

“Pride and bragging rights.” Pidge snapped. “Get the fuck back here Lance!”

“Eat my bananas!”

Keith pulled the Twizzlers out of his bag and settled into the mindset of watching his friends play video games. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been over to a friend’s house or even played video games. His mother had always encouraged him to get out of the house, but it hadn’t been in the interest of making friends. His father, God Keith hated wasting thoughts on his father, but he was the reason Keith never had successful friendships. “No, I refuse! Allura was cheating!” Keith refocused. Lance’s controller was lying face-down on the floor, his hands were above his head flailing wildly, and everyone else in the room was waiting for him to be done. 

“Then Keith will play.” Allura dropped her controller on Keith’s chest with a dull thud. He picked up the controller carefully, inspecting the long rectangular object. The layout was simple, Keith figured he would be able to pick up the controls easily. “It’s just as fun watching other people beat you.” As Allura was speaking, Pidge was picking a track. They were scrolling through the unlock-able tracks. The preview ran through a forest themed track featuring large yellow worm things and very narrow bridges. A floating dude on a cloud appeared as the screen split into quadrants.

“I assume now would be a good time to let everyone know that I’ve never played this before, and have no idea what I’m doing.” The countdown hit one and everyone launched away from the finish line while Keith’s character began going backwards.

“Hit the little two button at the bottom.” Shiro instructed a mildly amused smile on his face. 

“How have you never played Mario Kart before?” Hunk asked, his large monkey character bumping into a skeletal turtle.

“Hit the button on the back of the controller.” Shiro suggested after Keith drove through a line of glass locking boxes and began panicking. Keith hit the button and almost dropped the controller as his character rocketed forward. He passed a few characters until he was in tenth place. The small victory didn’t last long, Keith almost immediately fell off the track and into the abyss below. He took his time, slowly navigating the obstacles of the track. He ended up not finishing the race, although he didn’t mind.

“You can have this back now.” Keith passed his controller back to Allura with a sheepish look.

“No fucking way!” Lance yelled as the animated ending to the tournament began. Hunk ended up in first, with Pidge following in second, then Allura in third. “I did not get fourth!” 

“The points say otherwise.” Pidge smirked at the screen displaying each character's points. “But that doesn’t matter, the upsetting thing is that this was the first time Keith has ever played Mario Kart.” Keith knew his face was bright red.

“We never had any video games.” Keith shrugged. It was easier if he acted like it was normal, the lack of friends and technology. He wasn't ready to fall apart in front of these people, his friends. The incident was to raw. He hadn't fully healed his thick skin yet; his nerves were still frayed and jittery. “We were a board game family.”

“What kind of board games?” Lance had calmed down. His face no longer red from yelling.

“Chess and checkers.” Keith smiled as Lance wrinkled his nose. His mom had been a chess master, the only person who could best her was Grandma Kai. Keith remembered sitting in the backyard playing Chess with his mom while they waited for his father to pass out. They played for hours, until both of them felt strong enough to enter the house. “Occasionally we’d get rowdy and play poker.”

“My brother cheats when we play.” Pidge stated. They had also discarded their controller; nobody did anything about the quick music playing in the background. “We play Axis and Allies mostly.”

“Life.” Hunk offered. “Sometimes I like to try to hit all the child spaces just so I can get more than one car.”

“My sisters like pictionary.” Lance admitted. “It's the only reason I can sort of draw.”


	4. Lance

The board game conversation was weird. Nobody was saying anything about it, but it was strange. Everyone saw the way Keith had froze up and panicked for second when he was trying to play off never having played Mario Kart. Shiro and Allura did the thing where they look at each other like parents who are concerned that their son doesn’t have have any friends. Lance had been tempted to say something, to force Keith to open up. There was a very short list of things Lance knew about Keith. None of those things really unlocked the essence of Keith. The closed off personality was strange to Lance, who was an over-sharer and over-emoter. All his friends were loud or rowdy, even Shiro and Allura got over-excited and giddy. After two weeks of knowing Pidge, they had told Hunk and Lance about not feeling one-hundred percent comfortable being a female. The most frustrating thing to Lance was that Keith wasn’t sharing information with anyone. Lance had asked Pidge and Shiro about Keith’s living situation and neither knew anything about it. He hadn’t outright mentioned anything about his relatives, or why he had moved to California. “So who wants to play Never Have I Ever?” Pidge shouted flicking a piece of cold pepperoni at Shiro, who was stroking Allura’s cheek. “Stop being gross.”

They formed a circle on the floor, claiming their spots by flinging various personal belongings in the general direction of the designated spot. “Alright, as we all know the information gained from Never Have I Ever does not leave the circle. The information can only be discussed if the people in audible distance are part of this circle. Nothing from the circle can be discussed with people not in the circle. And everyone must tell the truth.” Keith’s eyebrows climbed continuously higher as Pidge explained the house rules. “Alright, fingers up everyone. Hunk why don’t you start.” The group hadn’t played games like this in years. Information gathering activities such as Never Have I Ever, Would You Rather, and Truth or Dare had been out of practice since the friends knew each other so well they would target each other. Truth or Dare had become a challenge of who could make Hunk eat the grossest thing before he threw up. Would You Rather became who could ask the most uncomfortable question. Never Have I Ever stopped after sex questions weren’t a joke anymore. Lance figured Pidge was as frustrated with Keith’s silence as much as Lance was and wanted some quality information about their new friend.

“Never have I ever accidentally said “I love you” to someone.” Lance rolled his eye as he tucked his thumb into the palm of his hand. 

“Dirty trick Hunky-Boy, you know I had a thing for Miss April in second grade.”

“Never have I ever had a crush on a friends parent.” Shiro continued the assault on Lance.

“Everyone is rude.” Lance held his pinky finger under his thumb. “Everyone knows Allura’s mom is a dime.”

“His name was Mr. Thompson, and he was the father of the meanest kid in my fourth grade class.” Keith’s voice startled the group. “It didn’t last very long because I only saw him once at parent-teacher conferences.”

“Never have I ever been arrested.” Lance stated, pointedly looking at Pidge.

“I’m putting a finger down because the cops were called on me, but I was never actually arrested.”

“I have two questions.” Keith interrupted, a mischievous smirk in his eye. “What counts as being arrested, and do you put a finger down per time you’ve been arrested?”

“No you only put one finger down.” Pidge clarified as the rule maker. “Arrested means you were put in handcuffs.” Keith nodded flicking his second finger down.

“How many times?” Hunk’s eyes were wide with amazement.

“Only once. I used to go to underground punk shows back in New York. I got into a fight with a guy and the cops were called. I was arrested but never charged with anything. He threw the first punch.”

“How many times have you been in the back of a cop car?” Shiro extrapolated.

“A handful.” Keith winked jokingly; although, Lance caught the unsure look in his eye. “Never have I ever eaten something out of the garbage.” Hunk grumbled as he dropped a finger. 

The game continued until only Keith was left with two fingers up. He hadn’t put any fingers down for sexual statements, nor any illegal activities. He hadn’t even had his first kiss yet, which Lance was simultaneously flabbergasted and thrilled about. He was surprised because Keith was attractive in his mildly alternative, atypical hair kind of way. There had to have been tons of people in New York who had wanted to get with him. The news excited Lance, because he was a pervert who was mildly turned on by the idea of being able to teach Keith about intimacy. Pidge had made him aware of how mildly gross that was, but Pidge was into food stuff that Lance never wanted to know about. 

“So what would have made you put your fingers down?” Hunk squinted at Keith.

“Umm, never have I ever ridden a motorcycle or moved across the country.”

“You ride motorcycles?” Allura inquired. She pulled her knees toward her chest and leaned her head on Shiro’s shoulders. “I thought you had a car.”

“The only thing I wanted for my sixteenth birthday was a motorcycle license, so I did driver’s ed for both car and motorcycle. I’m currently fixing my grandpa’s old bike since I had to sell mine before I moved here.”

“What kind of bike did you ride?” Pidge asked. They were obsessed with electronics, robotics, and engines.

“It was a red Yamaha. Something small and cheap that I bought from a neighbor.”

“What’s the one you’re working on now?”

“Honda.”

“When you get done, I want to see it.” Pidge demanded. “Although, I wouldn’t complain if you need some help with fine tuning.”

“I’m sure we’ll all want to play with Keith’s new toy.” Lance interrupted as he stood to get more food. “What are we doing next?”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Around one in the morning they settled into their sleeping arrangements and began cycling through nature documentaries. Even with the extra person in their group, there was no squabbling over who would sleep where. Hunk was on the floor closest to the bathroom, because he often had to get up to pee; years of tripping over sleeping bodies had taught them something about who should sleep where. Lance was at the base of the loveseat where Keith was sleeping. Pidge was spread out on the full size couch. Shallura was curled up together on the recliner. Hunk fell asleep before the lights had turned off. Shiro went next with Allura, because they were old. Pidge made it to the end of The Deep from The Blue Planet series before checking out. Lance and Keith managed to keep up their half-asleep banter for fifteen minutes into Open Ocean until they were both just staring at the television screen. Occasionally Lance opened his mouth and said something mildly entertaining that Keith would laugh at, but there was mostly silence. The silence was deafening to Lance whose head was overflowing with questions. “What do you want to ask Lance?” Keith’s voice was low so it wouldn’t wake up their friends, but it also held a serious weight.

“What?” Lance froze.

“You’ve been fidgeting and moving around for the last twenty minutes since you told the anecdote about the time you almost died because you stepped on a fish, so you either really have to pee or you have something to say.” Lance tucked his hands into his sleeping bag to prevent Keith from seeing his agitated fingers.

“I don’t know anything about you.”

“We’ve only known each other for a week.”

“But still.” Lance was glad that he could hide his pout from the light of the TV. “I don’t know anything about you. I couldn’t tell you what your favorite color was, what food you like to eat when you wake up from a nightmare, what you do on the weekend. I don’t know what you want to do with your life, whether you want to go to college or not. The only thing I really know is that you moved here from New York and you’re scary good at Dodgeball.” Lance’s voice was strained from trying to stay quiet. He felt embarrassed by his outburst, but his parents had made him very aware of his lack of patience. 

“I like red.”

“What?”  
Keith cleared his throat, “My favorite color is red. When I wake up at night and can’t go to sleep, I don’t eat anything; I drink my Grandma Kai’s homemade herbal tea. On Saturdays my grandma and I meditate together because she thinks I need to work on inner peace and emotional balance, but I spend most of my time working on my grandpa’s old motorcycle or practicing martial arts. I don’t know what I want to do with my life. I know I’m going to college, but I don’t know for what.” Keith released a shaky breath as if sharing that much information about himself had been physically tiring. “You like blue right?”

“What?” Lance glanced at Keith who was lying on his back staring up at the ceiling.

“You’re favorite color is blue right?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“When you can’t sleep, normally because of a nightmare where you are naked somewhere, you like to eat plantains with warm Nutella. And on the weekends you like to sleep in until noon because you stay up until three in the morning, then you play video games or watch your siblings.” Keith paused, his head tilted to the side. Just as the silence was beginning to disrupt Lance’s mental functions Keith spoke again. “I don't know what you want to do for college though. You're good at the humanities, but I don't think you would be happy philosophizing for the rest of your life. I think that you'll want to do something where you get to help people, the civil services.”

“How do you know all this?”

“You talk a lot,” Lance rolled his eye at the teasing, “and you’re loud.”

“But seriously, I didn’t even notice that my nightmares always involve nudity.” There was the faint sound of cloth against cloth, Lance looked up to find Keith playing with the piercing in his ear. “I feel like a shitty friend.”

“No, you’re a great friend. I have a hard time opening up to people.” Keith’s voice caught in his throat, it was a little hitch, but it was enough to set impulsive alarms off in Lance’s head.

“I’m sorry about your mother.” Lance didn’t know what he expected to happen; a part of him flinched as Keith turned his head towards Lance, expecting a punch, but the other part wagered Keith would break down and cry. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said anything--”

“Lance, it’s fine.” Keith was staring at Lance reassuringly. “I’m not ready to talk about it now, but I do want to tell you about it eventually.”

“You don’t have to. It’s none of my business.”

“I haven’t told anyone about it for so long; it’s about time for my voice to be heard.” 

Lance didn’t like the substance that the word “it” held. Similar to the way “was” had been used in connection with Keith’s mother; it suggested multiple things. It could stand for any serious emotional, mental, and physical trauma. It had to be some sort of unfortunate event, since the signs pointed to it being what killed Keith’s mom. More questions circled Lance’s head like water that wanted to go down the drain but there was a plug in the way. He would find out the answers to his question eventually, and that released the pressure from the swirling water.

\---------------------------------

Lance’s dream was really good. He was standing on a familiar beach allowing himself to be encompassed in warmth. The sand gently burned against the soles of his feet, while the sun caressed his cheeks and shoulders. Despite his gaze planted firmly on the horizon, Lance knew there was someone standing next to him. Someone with pale skin, who reaches out to touch Lance’s shoulder. The pale hand slides from his shoulder to the area over his heart. The skin was cold and wet making Lance shiver. He pushed at the hand to make it release him only for the temperature to drop more. An unmanly yelp escaped Lance as his eyes shot open. He bolted upright, causing the ice cube to fall into his lap and do more damage. “What the fuck!” Lance yelped.

“Pancakes are ready.” Hunk stated, suspicious wet marks marring his sleep shirt. “I’m surprised it took you so long to wake up. Normally as soon as the first scoop of batter hits the griddle you’re up there hounding Allura.”

“Keith and I didn’t go to bed until like three.” Lance yawned, stretching and cracking his back. “I’m too old to sleep on the floor.” There were two plates stacked with pancakes waiting for Hunk and Lance when they arrived at the kitchen. “Mmmm chocolate chip.” 

“Keith tried to convince Allura to put blueberries in yours.” Pidge shook her head in feigned disappointment.

“Pidge suggested it. I was testing Allura’s will.”

“My will is strong.” Allura added sliding Lance the syrup across the table. 

“Thank you, Allura.” Lance cut a large piece out of his first pancake, missing the subtle blue stain surrounding the suspicious chocolate chips. He was two chews in before his face screwed up into a frown. “That’s fucked up.” Lance pointed his fork at Allura.

“Don’t drip syrup everywhere.” Shiro ordered.

“That is mean.”

“There was only one. We hoped it would have been in your last bite so you would think the whole pancake had been blueberry.” Keith defended, his tone of voice suggesting Lance was freaking out over nothing. “Besides you like blueberry pancakes.”

“Sure, when I’m not being deceived by chocolate. You are the worst kind of person Keith, the worst. I will never be able to trust you again.”

“Allura was the one who did it.”

“But you were the orchestrater.” Lance carefully expected his next bite of pancake. “Vengeance will be merciless.” Keith rolled his eyes, an amused smile destroying the image that he was better than Lance. 

“If I bought you some chocolate covered strawberries when Hunk and I go grocery shopping on Thursday, would you forgive me.”

“Keith you don’t understand. How can I trust you?”

“It was one blueberry!”


	5. Keith

Jimmy’s was a small family run grocery store that profited off of mass sales. The mascot of the store was a purple rodent of mysterious origins, which the owners affectionately called Massy. The accessories of the store were cheap, but they held up. Keith and Hunk had been at the grocery store for an hour and had only made it halfway through their worksheet. Half of the battle was trying to work through the adults swarming the thirty percent off ground beef. The other half was their fifteen minute argument over which deli meats were superior and which were inferior, causing a silent tension to settle between the two. The strain made it hard for Keith to use their outing as an opportunity to learn more about Lance. Then again he had never been one to have much use for tact. “Hey Hunk.”

“Yeah.” Hunk responded with a mildly interested tone from his spot a few yards away; Keith took that as a sign to go ahead with his question. 

“Is Lance bisexual?”

“Huh, oh, uh, not really. Why do you ask?”

Keith frowned, ignoring Hunk’s question. “What do you mean not really?”

“Well, uh, he used to be pretty straight, but there was a recent change, sort of.” That response didn’t give Keith much more information to work with. Keith made his way towards Hunk. “A recent change?” Hunk jumped. He looked stressed, his eyes staring at the label on a can of green beans but not reading it. “What does that mean?”

“Don’t do this to me man, I’m not supposed to tell you about it.”

“Tell me about what?” Keith pushed, his eyes narrowing as his brain tried to gather some kind of clue.

“I’m serious man, I can’t say anything.”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“You’re the one I’m not supposed to say anything to!” Questions ran around Keith’s head. Why would the reason for Lance questioning his sexuality be a secret from Keith?

“I don’t need the whole story.”

“Fine, but you have to promise not to freak out about it.”

“I promise.”

“Lance, has a thing for you, and it’s pretty serious. But he’s freaking out, because up until a week ago he thought he was completely straight.”

“That’s why Pidge was so adamant about my feelings for Lance.”

“You have feelings for Lance?” Hunk’s eyes grew wide.

“He’s attractive.” Keith shrugged, not thrilled to have the interrogation turned on him. “I don’t know, it seems too fast.”

“That’s what Lance thinks.” They stood in silence, Hunk still holding a can of green beans. “I think you should talk to him. Pidge’s meddling will probably end up doing more harm than good. It’s probably best if the two of you just figure it out.”

“Yeah. I’ll think about it. Now come on, I don’t want to be in this God-forsaken grocery store until it closes.”

They left Jimmy’s an hour later with a giant bag of Swedish Fish to split between the two of them. Friendly conversation was exchanged as Hunk drove Keith back to his house. Seventy percent of the conversation was contributed by Hunk, who was telling a long story about the time Lance got a Swedish Fish stuck up his nose. Keith found he didn’t mind listening to Hunk ramble about his friends, their friends. Keith had friends now. The realization sent a warm tingle through his body, and he found himself still suffering from the accomplishment as he was lying in bed waiting for sleep to overcome him. He had friends and Lance, Lance had some kind of feelings for him. A giggle bubbled its way out of Keith’s chest. He had made Lance question his sexuality. It almost felt like he had some sort of ancient power, the same magic that lured sailors into the sea.

\-------------------------------

Wednesday morning Keith found himself staring at himself as he brushed his teeth. A new brand of confidence had overcome him, and he enjoyed the way it fogged his mind. He was going to need that lack of inhibition, if he was going to make it through the day. He could understand why people likened love to a drug. While Keith didn’t think what he was feeling was one-hundred percent love; he knew it was something strong and important. “Keith,” Grandma Kai stuck her head into the bathroom. “Is your friend allergic to anything?”

“I do not believe so.” Keith spit the toothpaste out of his mouth. “I know he likes pineapple though.”

\--------------------------------------------

Pidge was sat at their usual morning meeting spot flipping through their phone as casually as someone who knows something they’re excited about can. They waited for Keith to shuck off his backpack and make himself comfortable at the table before leaning towards Keith expectantly. “How was your shopping trip?”

“It took longer than I hoped it would.” Keith settled back in his seat. If Pidge wanted to play a game, he would try to enjoy it. “I think it’s also a little more expensive than a kid straight out of college would shop at.”

“Yeah. If you’re not shopping for what’s on sale it can get pretty expensive.”

“I think it was worth it though. I got to know a lot about Hunk.”

“I heard you also got some information on Lance.”

“I may have.” Keith rolled his eyes to look at Pidge. “If you know I like Lance, and that Lance likes me, why not tell him?”

“He wouldn’t believe me.” Pidge settled back into their seat. “Especially because you’re a guy, and he hasn’t fully worked that out for himself yet.” Keith nodded, playing their conversation off as Lance and Hunk appeared in the atrium. 

Keith listened to Lance retell his younger siblings shenanigans from the night before. He kept his eyes locked on his phone; although, he allowed himself an easy smile. If Lance accepted his offer, the rest of the week would be torture, but if he didn’t, Keith feared he would fall into despair. He waited patiently for the end of the school day. Geometry, Chemistry, Economics, Lunch, each class passed slowly, allowing Keith too much time to think over the consequences of his actions. The two of them, Lance and Keith, were going to need to talk. Keith especially was going to need to open up to his friend in order for them to be on the same page. It would be scary, but Keith trusted that it would be worth it.

“Are you going to eat that?” Keith looked up from his phone to find Lance’s finger pointing at the cookie that came as a part of his lunch. 

“Yes.” The cookie had been the only thing on his tray for the last ten minutes. “Even though I don’t shovel my food down my throat doesn’t mean I’m not going to eventually.”

“I just wanted to make sure.” Lance’s hand retreated to his personal bubble; although, his eyes occasionally flitted back to the chocolate cookie. “I’ll need all my energy for the softball unit.” Keith decided to eat it before it suddenly disappeared. 

“I’ll need just as much energy as you.”

“No. You’re shorter; it takes less energy to power your tiny body.” Keith stared at Lance silently as the Cuban patted himself on the back for his “sick burn”.

“Fine, then I won’t bring you the chocolate covered strawberries I bought you.”

“You can’t do that! You owe me for the blueberry!”

Keith shrugged. He stood up from the table, ignoring Lance’s sputtering as he walked over to the tray return. The strawberries were currently tucked away in the back of the fridge with a yellow sticky note claiming them as Lance’s. Keith planned to give them to Lance that morning, but they would have melted in the California heat. He would need some kind of cooler, or he could give them to Lance on Friday. Keith hid his smile as he returned to the table. The image of his grandma’s back yard came to him clearly. They would wait until the sun had set, and the stars had come out before sharing the strawberry dessert. They would lay on their backs in silence, because they wouldn’t need to fill the silence. There would be some kind of physical contact; their fingers intertwined, or their bodies pressed together from foot to shoulder. They probably wouldn’t kiss. Their relationship would be too new. Lance would probably be too uncomfortable for much physical contact. Keith knew he was getting ahead of himself. He hadn’t asked Lance yet, thus Lance hadn’t given his response. 

“Those strawberries are mine.” Lance slammed his fist against the table, making his tray jump.

“Not if you’re going to be a tall asshole.”

“Don’t penalize him to much. He can’t help it.” Allura teased. She smiled innocently at the incredulous look Lance shot her. “You know it’s true.” Allura stood up with Shiro as the end of lunch bell rang.

Keith waited for Lance to deposit his tray, so they could walk to gym together. Lance forgot about his grumbling in order to relive his past gym softball glory days. As they changed into their athletic clothes Lance was describing an amazing triple play he was a part of. During the short walk, Keith heard about a series of close calls Lance had while running bases and about the unfortunate finger injuries he amassed while he learned how to bunt. “Did you ever play baseball?”

“Not outside of gym.” Lance bent over to tug on the laces of his shoe. Keith subtly eyed the curve of his ass. Hopefully, their flirting would no longer be an unspoken game. 

“Are we going to make this a separate competition as well?”

“I don't know if we can.” Lance stood up and tilted his head. “We would have to be on opposing teams.”

“Really, because I bet I can score more runs than you.”

“No way!” They pushed at each other as they exited the locker room. “Have you ever played baseball before?”

“I used to live in New York. Not playing baseball is sacrilegious.”

“But how good were you?”

“Good enough.” Keith allowed himself to smirk mischievously despite the pain those memories caused him. His father signed him up for T-Ball the first year Keith qualified, and he hadn't stopped playing until his parents stopped being able to pay for it. His father went to every game, home and away, but he never spoke any words to Keith. He never cheered or congratulated Keith for his hard work. “Softball is different, so I don't think it matters anyway.”

They ended up on separate teams despite Lance rigging the count off every way he knew how. Keith positioned himself in the outfield next to a blond girl who hadn't even grabbed a glove. The warm end of summer breeze blew his hair in his face, so Keith pulled the hair tie off his wrist and pulled his hair back into a short ponytail. It helped after the first few obnoxiously athletic guys pulled the ball towards him. Outfield had been Keith’s home away from home during his years playing baseball. His normal position was shortstop, but every once in awhile the coach sent him to center field. He expected to be more rusty after years of malpractice, dropped balls and terrible throws. However, he was able to play just as well as he use to. He wondered if he could still consistently hit triples.

Keith was dragged back into the game by Lance stepping up to the plate. He swung the orange plastic bat around as if he were a professional. Keith wanted to yell and tease him, but settled for being a silent intimidating presence instead. Lance swung and missed twice. His body lurching forward as he tried to hit the outside pitches. Keith shook his head. Lance hit a dribbler towards third base and only managed to get to first because the third baseman wasn't paying attention. Lance knew it was luck that got him on base, it was written all over the middle finger he aimed at Keith. He was standing on third when his team suffered their third out.

“That was a great hit.” Keith tossed his glove to Lance as he jogged infield.

“Shove it, Kogane. I doubt you can do any better.”

The inning finished before they got to Keith’s name in the line-up; he shrugged at Lance when they exchanged the glove in the infield. The next three people up on Lance’s team struck out. Keith didn't know if he expected the innings to move slower or faster. He was the second person up to bat. The girl in front of him went to first on a walk. Keith figured he could get the girl to third if he launched it past the nonathletic guy standing a few yards behind first. He wanted to be picky with which pitches he went for, but the underhand throw made it so Keith couldn't reliably tell where the pitch was going to end. He picked a pitch that was lower than regulation and went for it. The ball sailed over the shortstop instead of the first baseman; the girl safely made it to second. Keith rounded third and made it home when the lead batter hit a home-run. The game ended with Lance’s team ahead by two, but Keith ahead by one.

“Tomorrow I'm gonna’ run bases like I'm doing laps.”

“Did you tell your team that too.”

“Maybe if you talked to your pitcher about not aiming for the girls I wouldn't have to.”

“Right.” Keith pulled his shirt over his head as they entered the gym. “Hey, uh, Lance?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you doing anything Friday night?”

“Nah, I don't think so.”

“You want to hang out at my house?” 

Lance stopped making with one leg out of his shorts. “Really?”

“I mean you don't have to, but my grandma is making stir fry, and it's amazing.” Keith made the joke, because he knew they were having a moment. He wasn't ready for that; it wasn't Friday yet. “I'll give you your chocolate covered strawberries then too.”

“When should I come over?”

“Anytime after school. You don't need to bring anything either.”


	6. Lance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be a rough one.

Keith hadn’t said it was a date. The casual “Wanna’ hang out at my house” suggested nothing more than video games and stir fry, but their behavior for the last two weeks made a weight hang over Friday night. Lance made sure his nicest baseball-T was washed and that his signature brown jacket wouldn’t start smelling half-way through school. Keith was driving them to his house after school, which meant Lance wouldn’t have time to gussy up before their da--get together; it wasn’t a date, even if Keith was going to give Lance his chocolate covered strawberries. Running his fingers through his hair one last time, Lance took a deep breath. He could do it, whatever it was; he was prepared. Along with his schoolwork, Lance shoved sweatpants and a shirt to change into, a deck of Uno cards, his Nintendo 3DS, and a stick of cherry chapstick into his backpack. A quick beep from the front yard announced Pidge’s arrival. Without breaking himself by falling down the stairs, Lance made his way to the little blue Taurus as quickly as he could. “I got you coffee.” They gestured to the tray of cups balanced precariously on the center console.

“Why is mine bigger than everybody else's?”

“Keith didn't respond to the group chat, so I figure he'd want some of yours. Since you are dating now.”

“We aren't dating.” Lance denied immediately.

“Did you forget our conversation from Wednesday when you called me at one in the morning freaking out?”

“We aren't dating.”

“So this isn't a date?”

“You know it isn't. We're just hanging out.”

Pidge shook their head, “You're gonna’ talk to him about this though.”

“I'm not going to make this awkward, if I don't need to.” Pidge shot Lance an unimpressed look when they stopped at a red light. “I think we have a lot of things we need to talk about. I may come up or it may not.” 

“The promise I made to not meddle fucking sucks.” 

Lance laughed, “Not for me it doesn't. I'm sure I'll still need your advise. I have never done this with a guy before.”

“It's not that much different from “doing this” with a girl.” Pidge took on her experienced friend tone. Pidge had dated both males and females from seventh grade to where they were now. “You just have to figure out what he likes and run with it. Don't think of it as a gender thing, think of it as a Keith thing.”

“A Keith thing?” 

Pidge pulled into their parking spot and turned the car off before turning to Lance. “If he laughs at gross stuff, if he likes Mochas or tea over black coffee, if he won't let you go all the way on the first date”, Lance snorted, “it's a Keith thing not a guy thing.”

“Wow Pidge, that was actually helpful.”

“If you actually listened, you would have realized that years ago. Now come on or I'm gonna’ get bitched at because the coffee’s cold.”

The group raided the coffee tray before it was even set on the table. Lance offered some of his to Keith, but he declined saying he preferred tea: English Breakfast tea precisely. Lance found it easy to take that knowledge and make it a Keith thing. Upon deeper thinking, Lance found that he had noticed a lot of things which were Keith things: his temper--which flared up when he didn’t get enough sleep, the way he ate his lunch in a particular order--main meal, vegetables, fruit, then dessert last, his sense of humor consisted of impact-less insults and empty threats. He was doing one at that moment, where he messed around on his phone while he listened to everyone else have a conversation. He could be coaxed into the conversation easily, by simply saying his name Lance would have his full attention, but Lance knew Keith didn't always want to participate. It made Lance feel annoying. He was loud and talkative, like his mouth was powered by the Energizer Bunny, and compared to Keith’s subdue attitude he felt overbearing. Keith could be energetic. He exerted loads of energy during gym, and talked non-stop for an hour about vehicles with Pidge. He got excited about the motorcycle he was building. His motorcycle! “Hey Keith?” Purple eyes snapped to meet blue ones. “Can I see the motorcycle you're building tonight?”

“Yeah. It's still missing a few parts, but I can show you what I have so far.” The excitement and surprise in his eyes made Lance smile. “I wish I had the parts, then we could have gone for a ride.” Both of their faces flushed red as they realized the innuendo which hid itself in Keith’s words. “ I would need helmets before my grandma would even let me get on it anyway.”

“I think my mom would kill me if I got on a motorcycle.”

“Even though it was built by my superior hands.”

“You can tell yourself whatever you want to man.”

“You’re the one lying to yourself.” Keith teased picking his backpack off the ground as the bell rang. “My hands are clearly superior.” Lance’s pride kept him from automatically agreeing. Keith wouldn’t have heard the agreement; his tight jean clad ass had walked too far away. Lance knew he was staring. He could hear Pidge commenting on it, but a thrill of hope had surged through him, disallowing him to care. Whatever happened that evening would determine whether Lance would eventually be allowed to touch that ass. He could imagine the tips of his fingers slipping past the black fabric, so he could feel the ridges Keith’s pants left in his skin. 

“You’re drooling.” Hunk nudged Lance, who quickly runs the back of his hand along his mouth. 

“No I wasn’t.” Lance snapped.

“It was pretty damn close.” Pidge pulled Lance from the table. “Now come on or you’re gonna’ be late.”

\-------------------------------------

Throughout the day Lance became aware of more and more reasons why the upcoming hang-out was important. He had come to the conclusion that there would be two different outcomes to the evening; they would confess their feelings to each other and either agree it was too soon and remain friends or start something romantic. Lance had a feeling that the conversations was going to be very heavy. He guessed that Keith wanted to talk about why he moved to California. Lance wasn’t good at emotional talks. He often ended up making fun of the situation or joking around in order to keep himself from crying. If Keith’s story was something fucked up, which he had an inkling it was, Lance didn’t think he’d be able to prevent himself from acting emotionally. It was in his nature to be protective. In seventh grade Lance was sent home because he got in a fight with an eight grader for attacking Pidge for dating a girl. He wore his black eye and busted lip proudly of course. He knew it was impossible for him to fix anything that happened to Keith in the past--he can’t fight memories or ghosts--but, he could be there for Keith in the future. That was what ultimately led Lance to be okay just being friends with Keith. Lance can handle not acting on a crush. That was the entirety of elementary school, and middle school up until eighth grade. They hadn’t wanted to be his friend after his confession, but Lance wasn’t going to give Keith that option. They would remain friends no matter what happened.

“So we’ve finished two softball games in gym; are you finally going to beat me?” Keith’s smug face appeared in front of Lance’s. 

“As I recall, we almost tied last game.”

“I still had one more run than you.” The due strolled over to the lunch line. “The score doesn’t matter; the win does.”

“You say that now, but you’re attitude will change once I win today.”  
“Maybe if you sabotage the field.”

“I don’t need to sabotage the field! I can beat you easily.”

“You can tell yourself whatever you want man.” Keith shot back in the same tone Lance had used that morning. Lance’s lip jutted out and he crossed his arms in an over exaggerated pout. “Anyway, if you need anything from your house we can stop there before going to my place.”

“I should be good, but if I think of anything I’ll tell you.” 

“Good, my grandma is excited to meet you. I figured I should warn you.” The faint pink that tinged Keith’s skin initiated a reassuring response from Lance.

“She isn’t scary or anything is she?” Keith’s non-committal shrug and distracted “nah” as he picked up his tray wasn’t reassuring. 

\------------------

Lance’s skin, warm from exertion, stuck to the leather covering Keith’s seats. A thin layer of sweat covered both males’ along with a faint pinkening of the skin. The perverted part of Lance wondered if they would look similar after participating in private exercise. Lance averted his eyes when Keith slid into his seat. Keith rolled all four of the windows down before pulling into the line of cars waiting to exit the high school parking lot. He looked relaxed with one arm gently hanging out the driver side window. His reaction to a senior cutting in front of him was a minute shake of his head. The radio played low, serving as background music that Lance could tap along to. It was the local hard rock station. “How much homework do you have?” Keith asked as he accelerated out of the lot and onto the main road.

“AP Euro packet.” 

Keith nodded his eyes squinting into the sun. “My grandma normally has dinner done by six, is that okay?”

“Yeah, that's fine.” Lance’s family ate at spontaneous times depending on when his parents and siblings returned home.

It took them twenty minutes to reach Keith’s home. They hadn't spoken much during the journey; it was when they pulled into the garage next to a blue Carola that Lance realized Keith was nervous. Lance wondered if Keith had ever invited anybody over to his house back in New York. The door to the garage entered into the kitchen where an elderly woman was tending to a cutting board covered in vegetables. “Welcome home, how was school?” 

“Good.” Keith walked over and stole a slice of carrot on the cutting board. “Lance and I will be upstairs.”

“Dinner at six, don't be late.”

“Of course not.”

\---------------

Keith’s room was clean. Compared to Lance’s room, which was covered in dirty laundry and half finished homework, it was spotless. There were no clothes on the floor, no piles of crumpled paper, no bowls from day old snacks. His been was made so that his bedspread was tucked around his pillows. They settled on the bed, which was queen, and began digging into their homework. It took a long time for Lance to focus. Normally after he got home from school, Lance dicked around on his phone for an hour or so, pulled his homework out, and did a few math or AP Euro problems between YouTube videos. Keith set into his homework immediately. He sat cross legged with his calculator balanced on his left knee and his worksheet on his right knee. Their arms would bump each other whenever Keith shifted from worksheet to calculator. It was distracting enough that it took Lance too many seconds to answer a “yes” or “no” question. He was mildly thankful for it though. This was setting a mood of content and ease. They could touch and be near each other without any awkwardness. Hopefully it would stay that way after dinner when they had their conversation. 

Keith finished his moth packet obnoxiously fast, then stretched out on the bed with a worn copy of a car magazine. Lance wanted to make a comment about how Keith would fit in as the love interest in a stereotypical 80’s movie, but decided to crank out the last few questions of his AP Euro assignment instead. “Why is European history so fucking long?” Lance carelessly tossed his textbook and packet into his backpack, ignoring the ominous crinkle of paper.

“Do you want a non-sarcastic answer to that question?”

“No, I want you to listen to me complain.”

“Alright, go for it.” Keith closed the magazine and turned himself to face Lance.

“Wait, really?!”

“Yeah. We've got a while before dinner. Talk about whatever you want.”

Lance sat quietly for a moment in shock. Keith was giving him permission to talk about anything he wanted to, inviting him to do so. He settled on talking about his family's numerous vacations to Cuba, so they could visit his grandparents. He told a few stories from what he could remember of the first three years of his life when he lived there. It felt good to talk without the pressure to be funny. He told happy stories, sad stories, embarrassing stories, anything he could think of. Keith as always was a perfect listener. He had moved to a lying position with his arms crossed behind his head so a thin layer of skin appeared between the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his pants. His eyes were closed, but Lance knew he was listening because Keith was smirking at Lance's antics from when he was trying to impress a girl at the age of nine. Lance figured it was bad taste to talk about past romantic excursions in front of the person he was trying to pursue, but Keith didn't seem to mind. 

A glorious story about Lance losing his bathing suit was interrupted by his grandma announcing dinner was ready. The food was delicious, as was expected when eating homemade stir fry, and the conversation was homely. Grandma Kai, as Lance was instructed to call her, began the meal by scolding Keith for taking so long to invite a friend over. It had only been two weeks , but Grandma Kai insisted that was more than enough time to get to know someone. She then talked about her trip to the martial arts studio where she used to train. “I led the stretches, but you know Steven. He would even let me take a whack at his sparring partner. Just because I'm seventy-three doesn't mean I'm immobile.” She shook her head before prompting the boys to talk about their days. Lance settled into his chair more as he talked to Grandma Kai as he would his own parents. He and Keith reiterated their baseball game, reigniting their rivalry from gym.

They helped wash and put away the dishes before heading back up to Keith’s room with a plate of brownies. They could both feel the tension building as the ascended the steps. Lance was ready for it though. He had opened up to Keith first, allowing the exchange of personal stories to be acceptable. Not that he hadn't talked about himself extensively prior to their conversation. Lance wondered if he should be the one to initiate the conversation. He doubted would Keith would just start talking.

They settled back onto the bed in silence, the plate of brownies set aside for later. “So I did a lot of talking earlier, would you like to take a turn?”


	7. Keith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter does contain references to abuse.  
> It also contains Spoilers from Naruto.

Lance’s words cause the tension building up to be released in a sudden rush of air. “I mean that is originally why I asked you over.”

“Really? I thought it was to get me alone in your room.” 

“I can't have two motives?” Keith relaxed further as Lance forcibly lightened the mood. He didn't want this part of the evening to ruin their time together. Having Lance over had been a fantastic experience; he agreed with his grandmother about having done it earlier. “It's not a fun experience.”

“I'm down as long as you don't make fun of me for crying.”

“Never.”

Keith began at the beginning with his parents meeting at college. He used to be told this story like it was a fateful romance. His mother, Nari, had been studying art history: his father, Darren, was an Economics major. He was flunking his art history class and the teacher recommended Nari tutor Darren. The relationship developed quickly, only after a few meetings the two began to meet at one or the other's apartment. They got married in the summer between their junior and senior year at the campus pier. Keith was born a year after graduation. The first few months had been the glorious time of new birth, but it didn't last very long. Keith could only remember snippets of his early life in their small ranch style home. He recalled his father always being strict; the smallest of offenses called for a spanking. His father was always loud, yelling or stomping around the house. He would slam his fists on walls and counters. Prior to the incident he had only laid his hand on Keith’s mother once. The first time he had remained drunk for a full forty-eight hours. Keith remembered his attention being yanked away from the television by the fire alarms going off. His mom had burned the fish. It was an open handed slap. The swing started a foot away from his mother's face and ended with a full follow through. His mom had fallen to the floor from the impact. He and his mother quickly figured out ways to avoid Darren. His constant drunkenness made him tired. They often only had to deal with him during dinner.

Keith noticed that he had locked his eyes on Lance’s fingers which had found a loose thread in his bedspread and begin pulling at it. He pulled his eyes away to check on Lance, who was glassy eyed and angry. His face pinched into a frown. Keith took one of Lance’s hands in his and squeezed. “He never hit me.” Keith summarized. “He wasn't a big man, and my grandma had begun to teach me self defense when we visited her for Christmas. He could threaten the piss out of me though.” Lance squeezed Keith’s hand back.

They had been functional, in the loosest interpretation of the term, for nine years. By the end though money had grown tight, and they had to budget expenses. Keith dropped from the baseball team. Protein often came in the form of deli meat and peanut butter. The thermostat, when turned on, never surpassed fifty-five. Keith and his mom had been surviving their big bad wolf. 

The incident happened because Nari was secretly working with lawyers to file for divorce, and Darren thought she was cheating. During the trial Darren claimed the gun belonged to a friend. He bought it with the excuse that he was going to teach Keith to shoot. In the middle of Nari making dinner, Darren came home. With Keith reading a book on the couch, Darren emptied the gun into her. The neighbors called the cops.

“I've been doing online therapy ever since the incident. The experience was traumatizing, and I can't be around guns, but I was expecting something to happen eventually. Fairy tales aren't real, we weren't going to ride off into the sunset.”

Up until Lance yanked Keith into a hug, Keith hadn't cried, but once Lance’s warm tan arms wrapped around him he broke. He had cried during his mother's funeral, but otherwise he had been numb. They talked about abuse in health class sixth grade, and freshman year. The statistics always came to the conclusion: abuse normally only ended in death. Around the beginning of Freshman year Keith gave up hope for his and his mother’s happy ending. He had prepared himself for the incident for almost two years without fully realizing it. He distanced himself emotionally until his mother was the only person who could make him smile. A small part of Keith was glad his mother no longer had to suffer at the hands of Darren; he cried because he could have done more to help the two of them survive. 

Keith pulled away from Lance feeling warm. He was straddling Lance’s lap, their arms wrapped around each other, and matching tear stains on their shirts. “That fucking sucked.” Lance momentarily appeared to regret his statement as Keith stared at him shocked. “I had a feeling it was going to be really bad, but--” Lance’s arms, which were locked around Keith’s waist, tightened as he searched for the end of his sentence. “I wish it was a car crash. I mean I wish nothing horrible had ever happened to you. But, I wish it was a singular unfortunate event.”

“I do too.” Keith offered Lance a soft understanding smile. “But the past is the past, and now I must look forward to the future.” Keith gazed unflinchingly into Lance’s eyes. The indefinite blue portals swam with suppressed anger, empathetic sorrow, and innocent uncertainty. The question wasn't whether Lance would be a part of Keith’s future. That question had been answered as soon as Hunk had introduced the two to each other in the loud cafeteria. The question was how Lance would continue to impact Keith. 

“Should we do this?” Keith snorted at Lance’s question.

“It's already happened, Lance. From this point on we either ignore it or accept it.”

“I don't want to ignore it.”

“Neither do I.”

Their lips pressed together hesitantly. Lance's hands had disconnected and come up to cradle Keith’s face and position his mouth. Keith was glad that he sort of knew how to handle his first kiss. He didn't shove his face into Lance’s or go in open mouthed. Copying Lance’s movements seemed to be the best option at the moment, so Keith moved his hands to tangle his fingers in Lance’s short hair. The warmth that had encompassed Keith during their embrace multiplied as Lance pulled Keith closer and tilted his head up. Keith could feel Lance breathing out of his nose. It tickled. They pulled away from each other with matching grins. “You want a brownie?”

Keith retrieved the plate of brownies from where they had been set aside along with his laptop. “Can I be the little spoon?” Lance’s face of confusion slowly morphed into one of understanding. 

“Do you want to finish those documentaries we were watching at Pidge’s?”

“Sure.” Lance built himself supports out of pillows before positioning himself lengthwise on the bed with his legs open in a ‘V’. Keith settled against him, dragging the laptop with him. He immediately felt hands settle against his abdomen. The hands rubbed against his stomach; Keith wondered if Lance thought he was subtle. “Are you trying to ‘Netflix and Chill’ me?”

“No.” The response was dragged out in feigned innocence as Lance removed his hands.

“You don't have to stop touching me. I just want to know where you think this is going.”

“Not ‘Netflix and Chill’.” The hands returned to their rubbing and lips pressed against the area behind Keith’s ear. A shiver ran through Keith as he followed his body’s desire to expose his neck more. His eyes fluttered closed as the narrator’s smooth, low voice began talking about a rare tropical bird. Keith’s hands fell on top of Lance’s as they cautiously slipped under Keith’s shirt. It was weird to be touched in such a way by someone other than himself. He found that he didn't mind the feeling, Lance’s hands were remarkably warm against his skin. “You are in unfairly good shape.”

“My grandmother is a world renown martial artist.” 

“Still, I think the most exercise I got during gym was from watching you change.”

“You thought about me when you masturbated?” Keith turned his head, so his lips were almost touching Lance’s. He shifted behind Keith.

“Uhh, yeah.” Lance admitted his eyes looking away from Keith.

“I thought about you too.” Keith admitted. “I think the first day I met you I had some kind of dream.”

“What did you dream about?” Lance’s lips moved to Keith's neck.

“If you're going to leave a mark do it where a shirt can hide it.” Lance hummed in response. “I don't really remember what I dreamed about.” A small gasp left Keith’s mouth as Lance gently bit down on Keith’s neck. It wasn't hard enough to leave a mark; its purpose had been to get a reaction.

“We're never going to eat those brownies.” Lance whispered against Keith’s shoulder.

\----------------

The next morning Keith woke up slowly. His normally warm bed appeared to be even warmer than usual causing the descent out of sleep to be even harder than usual. He could feel Lance’s arms wrapped around his waist and has face pressed against the back of Keith’s neck. The evening had gone on better than he had expected. The conversation after Keith spilling his guts had been awkward, but it had felt good to share his story. He hadn't meant for it to aggravate Lance. He had not expected that Lance would have such a strong reaction. At this point the confession had no impact on their relationship, well not directly. Keith found it funny that he achieved his first kiss immediately after crying over unfortunate events. Checking the clock Keith decided that he would need to wake Lance up soon. His grandma normally had breakfast made by eight-thirty on the weekends, and it was almost eight-fifteen. His Grandma Kai didn't mind Keith and Lance sharing a bed as long as they were responsible, but she didn't need to find them in bed together. They had done a little bit of light touching after their dessert, and some kissing, but Keith thought it was a good amount. The morning cuddling wasn't bad either. Unfortunately it had to come to an end. Keith sat up, so Lance’s arms slipped off his waist, and turned towards the sleeping man. It was an interesting dilemma that Keith was faced with; he had never had to wake a sleeping person before. He began by pulling the blankets away from Lance’s body, hoping that the contrasting cold air of the room would coax him out of slumber. The only thing that accomplished was Lance wrapping himself further around Keith. “Lance, you need to wake up.” Keith’s voice came out soft and scratchy. He gave the sleeping male a firm shake and cleared his throat. “Lance.” Said male swatted at Keith until his hand connected with Keith’s shirt. A firm tug brought Keith down on top of Lance. 

“Shh, we are still sleeping.” Lance said clamping his arms around Keith. 

“My grandma is making breakfast it should be done soon.”

“What time is it?”

“Eight-twenty.”

“Ugh, who gets up before ten on a Saturday.”

“We do, now come on I think she made scones.”  
Lance sat up, glaring at the light that filtered through the partition in Keith’s curtains. “You should feel special. I didn’t even get up this early when Hunk came over to my house in sixth grade and vomited because he ate too many Oreos.”

“Consider myself blessed.” 

Once Keith had both of his feet firmly planted on the floor, and the slowness of sleep worked out of his limbs he refocused on the task of removing Lance from his bed. After a series of various lies and deceits Lance had joined Keith in the open air of the room. The Cuban wore an overly dramatized frown. “You said it wasn't cold.”

“When you start moving around, you'll warm up.” Keith promised leading Lance to the kitchen. He could already smell his grandma’s cooking. A tray of chocolate scones were cooling on the counter. Two sets of glasses and plates were waiting for them as well. “My grandma probably went for a run. Take as much as you like.” Lance maneuvered two scones onto his plate. “Can I interest you in milk?”

“Yeah, how many do you want?”

“Two.”

Keith turned the television on as Lance set the table. “Is there anything particular you would like to watch?”

“Naruto?”

Keith raised an eyebrow, “Be honest, you like to pretend you're Naruto.”

“Of course! Allura is Hinata, because she always wanted to be with me over Shiro. Shiro is Kakashi, because he is senpai. Hunk is Sai, because everyone thought we were gay for each other in the eighth grade. Pidge is Ino, because for the first three weeks of their friendship they did nothing but butt-heads. And you of course are Sasuke, because our constant underlying love for each other is what keeps the plot going.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Keith countered. “Sakura was obsessed with Sasuke first which would make Shiro Sasuke, not me.” 

“Sakura is a minor character compared to Naruto and Sasuke’s all encompassing love. That's why it ended when Naruto and Sasuke lost their arms and the blood made a heart.”

“That's not how Naruto ended.” 

“I don't know what your talking about. Naruto and Sasuke died together and in love.”

When the search for Naruto bore no fruits, Keith checked the movie channels. He turned up the volume as an explosion colored the screen red and orange. “I hope Die Hard is an adequate substitute.”

“Never.”

Keith rolled his eyes as he seated himself. “So what do you want to do today?”


	8. Lance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have come to the end. I sincerely hope that these past eight weeks have been enjoyable and something to look forward to. I feel it mildly poetic that I end this story as the second season of Voltron begins. Hopefully that will bring new inspiration. I appreciate your viewing. Thank you.

Chapter 8

The day Lance spent with Keith was the best twenty-four hours Lance had experienced in a while. The chocolate scones tasted delicious and contented his stomach. The pastries perfectly danced the line between dry and moist. The process they went through in order to consume the food was Lance’s favorite part of breakfast. They moved around the kitchen in relative silence, using light touches to keep from running into each other. Lance didn't think he would ever get use to Keith touching him. The touching from the night before, made Lance interested even though it had been innocent. It was apparent that Keith was inexperienced. His physical interactions lacked confidence and direction. He hadn't been timid, but unsure. Lance figured it wouldn't last for long. Especially with the way Keith wrapped an arm around him when they were relaxing on the couch after breakfast. Keith placed his open palm against Lance’s hip. His hand a warm weight through the fabric of Lance’s t-shirt. They finished Die Hard without the hand moving. Lance would have had to try something before the hour ended. Keith didn't react when his grandma stopped home to shower before her lunch outing. They exchanged a chaste kiss after she left; although, Lance initiated it.

Once Die Hard ended, Lance flopped on top of Keith. He buried his face in Keith’s chest letting the dark haired male’s scent invade his nose. “Don't smell me! I stink.” Keith began pushing at Lance, only to have the brunette cling to him harder.

“You can't smell as bad as you do after gym.” Lance pulled his head up, so his chin rested on Keith’s sternum. “Because, let me tell you, the odor coming off of you is something to rival skunks.” Lance suddenly felt hard wood against his back and pain in the back of his head as he locked eyes at Keith, who was looking down at him from the couch.

“You can live through skunk, but no one can survive Mustard Gas.” Keith then slid off the couch, stepping over Lance’s body with ease. “Come on, let's go do something.”

“First you have to show me your bike.”

“Sure. After we get dressed.”

Lance tried not to freak out as Keith pulled a neatly folded shirt out of his dresser. He had heard about the intimate moments where couples would wear each other’s closing. Whenever Allura came in wearing one of Shiro’s shirts or sweatshirts, he would get overly touchy. Would Keith behave similarly? Would Keith see Lance as sexy in his clothing? Unfolding the shirt in as calm of a manner as he could, Lance prepared himself to put his boyfriend’s shirt on. The fabric was soft like it was made out of bunny tail fluff instead of cotton. It felt cool against Lance’s skin. It was plain grey, which Lance appreciated. He didn't think he could walk around with a shirt that said “Virgin Prunes”. Keith on the other hand looked like the kind of guy who would wear a “69 Eyes” shirt and did. His “resting bitch face”, post-80’s mullet, and attitude fit his usual all black outfits. Lance wondered how much of Keith’s appearance and mildly abrasive outwork personality was a defense mechanism developed because of his dad. Not that thoughts like that mattered. The past was the past, and Lance liked Keith just the way he was. Especially when he was looking at Lance as he was then, like Lance had appeared out of thin air.

“Does the shirt fit okay?”

“Yeah.” The shoulders were worn and loose, which made sense considering Keith had wider shoulders than Lance. “I like wearing your clothes.” Lance decided to throw it out into the open. He hadn’t been shy before; he wasn’t going to be shy now. 

Keith’s eyes widened slightly, and his mouth opened a few times before he composed himself. “I like you in my clothes.” They stared awkwardly into each other’s eyes for a moment before bursting out laughing.

“I hope this gets easier.” Lance pulled Keith into a kiss. “You know saying stuff like that.”

“That means you’ll have to wear my clothes more often.” Keith ghosted a kiss over Lance’s lips as his fingers slid against the fabric covering Lance’s back.

“Or you will wear mine. I have a cotton candy pink oversized sweatshirt that would look great on you.”

“No.” Keith scrunched his nose in disgust and pulled away from Lance. “There’s nothing wrong with pink, but it’s not for me.” Lance allowed himself to imagine Keith pulling the fluffy pink sweatshirt currently sitting in the back of Lance’s closet over his long black hair. He would probably pout the whole time and try to take it off right away.

“I’m sure any color could be for you.” Lance passed Keith on the stairs with a wink. “I mean look at me. For the longest time I thought blue looked hideous on me. Now it’s the only color I wear.”

“I don’t think pink is hideous. I just prefer other colors.”

“That’s probably because of your fragile masculinity.”

“I don’t have fragile masculinity.”

“Then why do you have a problem with pink?” Keith shot a withering look at Lance. “Alright, alright, I’ll drop it.” The motorcycle was tucked in the back of the garage between a work bench and a freezer. Lance was impressed; he had expected a pile of scrap metal and coils, not an almost completed bike. “So are you going to paint it pink when you’re done?”

“Get in the fucking car Lance.” Keith ordered throwing a brown tarp back over the project. “I’m just going to take you home, if you don’t shut up.”  
They left the windows up this time, and they cranked the music up a few notches. They drove around their local area until they began to crave lunch. Traversing the roads into the city created the most problems. Mainly because Lance was in charge of giving directions, but he constantly became distracted. He spent most of the drive trolling through the group chat, and the other portion chattering about random buildings and people they passed. Keith didn’t seem to mind the mindless talking. He laughed and made comments back, but once they passed their turn three times he had to put his foot down on the distractions. Lance was leading them to a pizza place. He remembered raving about the place during lunch one day. It was called “Tony’s off Quincy” located on Quincy Avenue, a one way street that only had parking on the street. They arrived in the middle of the lunch rush, so the two staked out a spot on the sidewalk. 

“It’s strange being in a city that isn’t New York.” Keith’s purple eyes were tracing the tops of the skyscrapers as he spoke. “I feel out of place.”

“You are wearing a leather jacket when it’s seventy degrees.”

Keith rolled his eyes, “I’m talking about the feeling.” Lance tipped his head, so it rested on Keith’s shoulder. “There’s still a large mix of languages, and the buildings are still tall. But, the people are different here. The atmosphere is different here.”

“I think I understand what you mean. When we go to Cuba, it takes me a while to fall back into the swing of things. It seems even worse when we’re coming back here. I think it’s mainly because we're guests in Cuba, but have shit to do back here.”

“Makes sense. Vacation can be a little slice of heaven.”

There conversation was interrupted by one of the hosting staff calling out Lance’s name. The calm, hazy attitude maintained its presence through the process of being seated and ordering their drinks. Lance didn’t mind the mood, Keith hadn’t seemed bothered by it either, but he hoped the mood would change as their day continued. After the waiter left with their orders, the two fell into an awkward silence. The conversation from earlier reopened the events from the night before. Lance wanted to ask if Keith thought it was better in San Diego than New York. If he was happier. When he looked at the skyline, was he glad that it was different.

“Lance.” Keith’s soft tone commanded Lance’s attention. “Just ask.”

“Are you happy here? Like when you were talking about how it feels different here is it a good different, or is it a bad different?”

“A good different.”

“Even though you feel out of place?”

“Yeah.” Keith reached his hand across the table and took thread his fingers through Lance’s. “I hated this place at first, because part of my mom’s dream was to come here after we ditched my dad, but I take it as a success that I got here at all. I’ve come to love it here recently. My grandma is a big reason for that, but you are too. I mean Pidge, Hunk, Shiro, and Allura helped just being my friends, but you were always a special case. I’m glad that I’ve opened up to you, and allowed myself to find happiness in you.”

Lance took a minute to just take in Keith. He knew his mouth was open and that he was openly staring. However, he needed to process what Keith said. The bitter sweet compliment that had spilled out of Keith’s mouth. Had they not been about to receive their lunch at a public restaurant Lance would have pulled Keith into the most bone-crushing hug and never let go. “Thank you. Thank you for opening up to me. Thank you so much for everything. God, I feel like such an idiot for fighting with myself about you for so long.” There were gripping each other's hands tightly, hanging onto each other like they shared a lifeline. 

“We've only known each other for two weeks, and our friendship is more important to me than a relationship. Although, I'm ecstatic that we were able to make this happen.”

“I still wish we could have known each other longer. That we grew up together, and struggled with everyone thinking we were dating even though we're only in eighth grade.”

“Instead we got our friends trying to force us together.” Keith released Lance’s hand as their pizzas arrived. “Just look forward to the next two years we have in high school, before everything gets difficult.”

“You think we'll make it to Senior year?”

“I hope so. I think I'm the kind of guy to be all in.”

“That's good, I am too.” 

They ate in relative silence for the remainder of their meal. Neither male knowing how to move their conversation forward from such a serious topic. Lance was tempted to ask Keith how he was enjoying his pizza, but it seemed too light and frivolous compared to their last conversation. The most conversation they had before they stepped out of the restaurant was the concurrence that they would split the bill. They headed back to their car, only to move it two blocks over then get out again.

“Finally going to admit it's too warm for a leather jacket?”

“I didn't know how warm the restaurant was going to be.”

“Right, that's why.” The scowl Keith shot at Lance made the teasing worth it. Reactions were the only reason Lance messed with Keith. The pink argument from the morning, the teasing about the jacket. The glare and the frown were like a giant thumbs up to Lance. “Anyway, I have a few stores I want to go to, and there's no better way to meet a town than to explore it.”

“If you get us lost, I swear to God.”

“I got us here didn't I?”

“Twenty minutes later than we were supposed to!”

“We still got here.”

Keith grumbled to himself as Lance steered him into a hat story. They visited ten different stores before agreeing that Lance had spent enough money. He was toting seven bags containing two new pairs of pants, a hat, a sweatshirt, and five graphic t-shirts depicting cats made out of pizza. Lance knew his style was obnoxious, which meant Keith’s barbs were pointless. “Are you going to be able to fit all of that in my car?”

“Shhh.”

“It's fine. I'm going to condense it all into one bag anyway so my mom won't yell at me.”

“Great.” Keith slid into the driver’s seat. “I'll stop back at my house first, so we can grab your stuff.”

“I don't want to go home.” Lance whined as Keith pulled out of his parking spot.

“You have my number Lance, you can text me at any time.” Lance humphed as he pulled out his phone. “Don't text me now, idiot.” Lance shoved his phone back into his pocket then began shoving his smaller bags into his larger ones. Keith cranked the radio up to drown out the tense sadness and fear that had taken residence in the car. Lance changed the station off of hard rock to Top 40’s and forced Keith to sing his heart out with him. Lance was afraid that the minute he entered his own home the spell would be broken and he'd wake up from a dream or get a text from Keith saying he didn't think it was going to work out in the end. He didn't want to step into his house and find out that his parents were moving to Germany and he'd never see Keith again. He had just experienced his first real date, and it had been everything he had dreamed of and more. He wanted to relive the last twenty-eight hours again and again and again. Keith looked scared too. Every inch closer to Keith’s house made his brow furrow harder and his teeth bite into his lip deeper. 

They moved slowly through Keith’s house. Stopping for a long conversation with Grandma Kai about downtown San Diego. They checked over Keith’s room three times to make sure Lance wasn't forgetting anything to draw out their time together even more. Keith drove the speed limit on the way over to Lance’s house where they then sat idled in the driveway for ten minutes.

“I'll text you later. Since I don't have homework I'll be rushing to do I'll have more time to bug you.”

“I'll be looking forward to it.” Keith turned his head to face Lance, his purple eyes flirting to Lance’s lips for a moment before darting away. Lance made the move. Leaning in, he captured Keith’s lips for a kiss he would have been embarrassed for his parents to see.

“See you at school Monday.”

“Be prepared to get your ass whopped in gym.”

“Of course.” Keith jokingly retorted as he pulled Lance back in for one more goodbye kiss.

“We are going to be so annoying.”

“My hope is that Pidge regrets trying to make us a thing.” 

“Sounds good to me.” Keith laughed.

“Drive safe.” Lance exited the car, waving one last time before watching Keith reluctantly pull out of the driveway and head home. He had already opened his phone and begun spamming Keith with texts before he took his shoes off. On Monday he was going to walk into school with his head held high, and he was going to greet his boyfriend with a morning kiss. There relationship was not something Lance was going to be scared of. It was not something he was going to shy away from. He would parade it around the school and throw it in everybody’s face. Everyone would know that Keith was his, and he was Keith’s.

**Author's Note:**

> halmoni=an affectionate term for an elder woman or grandmother.


End file.
